The Demon Diaries
by anthonymusgrove
Summary: A sample of a screenplay based upon Tosca Lee's best selling book, Demon: A Memoir telling of a struggling editor in New York City who interviews a strange person claiming to be a fallen angel who wishes to have his memoir published telling of the fall of Satan and God's true purpose of creating humans.


The Demon Diaries

By

Charles Anthony Musgrove

Based on Tosca Lee's Best Selling Novel, Demon: A Memoir

Newport Beach, CA

Anthonymusgrove

323 427 7816

WGAW 123456 (sample)

SUPERIMPOSE ON BLACK SCREEN:

And as the demons were coming out of many they were

screaming, "You are the Christ, the Son of God."

Luke 4:41a

HIGH PITCH SCREAMING. This SOUND could easily be mistaken

for demons...

FAINT THUDS against a STONE WALL and the CRACKLING of

ALUMINUM CANS scooting across brick pavement.

FADE IN:

EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT

A FLAMING TRASH CAN appears from blackness, illuminating the

scene...

We are standing between two brick buildings. To the left is

a ghetto apartment complex with rusted fire escapes and

chained air conditioners and to the right is some forgotten

bar used by the old timers.

The alley is dark and long and rain water has collected in

tiny pools of broken asphalt producing little jagged mirrors

of shimmering yellows, oranges and blues... smeared colors

from the neon sign that precariously hangs over the bar's

back door.

More HIGH PITCH SCREAMING...

From out of a SIDE SHADOW APPEARS TWO ALLEY CATS fighting to

the death. One is black and other is white. One SCREAMS in

pain. THEY'RE soaked in grimy rain water and blood.

WE PAN CLOSER to them, studying this animalistic form of

evil as this dirty mass of black and white rage moves to an

area of loose trash causing more CANS to CLINK and CRACKLE

on the brick pavement, forgotten paper trash floats in the

air.

A tornado of rage...

MORE SCREAMS from hell...

They disappear into the black depths of the alley...

ROLL PRE TITLE CREDITS:

The NEON SIGN begins to FLICKER. We PAN UP and spy at a lone

WINDOW to the apartment building.

2.

INT. CLAY'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

A NERVOUS HAND quickly scribbles across a yellow note pad. A

voice recorder, a professional type camera and an empty cup

of tea lie nearby. The hand hesitates. Starts again. Then

stops.

CLAY, our protagonist, looks up. He's thin. British type and

intelligent. 30's. Lines of august scar his face. EYES

trembling and wild like those spent fruitlessly searching

for hope and rescue. A sailor lost at sea. (a Ben Whishaw

type)

He senses a presence and SLOWLY looks over his shoulder...

NOTHING. Just a loyal WALL HEATER giving off its ROARING,

HYPNOTIC BLUE FLAMES.

Clay's skeptical EYES dart around, still searching for

something. Something unseen...

We PAN around the drab and musty apartment. It's barely lit

like an old, forgotten basement. A yellowing bulb from a

near-by lamp reveals the claustrophobic cage of an ill-kept

place. Not from laziness but from preoccupation. It's a

small two bedroom of peeling paint and cheap rent with a

hall leading to a tiny bathroom. The adjacent, dusty kitchen

is just four feet behind him where a small card table

holding scattered papers, empty Chinese containers and junk

mail stands in the center.

CLAY settles back into the worn out, yellow-brown chair and

forces himself deep into the back. He lowers his head, tries

to write but stalls...

We begin to hear the FAINT, RISING SOUND of a MILLION

HUMMING INSECTS...

Clay looks back up revealing his WEARY EYES have watered

over.

He STARES DEEP into us, through us, leaning forward, trying

to make something out... Straight in front of him is one of

the BEDROOMS.

It's in full view from the living room/kitchen and has its

door completely open. BLACKNESS fills its space, drawing any

weakened soul to its void.

WE GRADUALLY ZOOM CLOSER inside this BLACK VOID.

CLAY slowly reaches for the camera and stands up.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 3.

The HUMMING INSECT SOUND is now mixed with DEEP, VIBRATING

CORDS from a CELLO and getting LOUDER.

CLAY slowly walks towards us as he turns the camera on to

warm the flash making a LOW ZINGING NOISE then takes off the

lens cover and slowly raises it up towards the OPEN BEDROOM

DOOR and into the BLACKNESS.

WE ARE STANDING right at the openness as this BLACKNESS

fully envelopes our view.

FLASH! The camera's bulb EXPLODES WHITE LIGHT into the black

void filling the room with revelation allowing us to see

what's inside-a TWIN BED neatly made over with an old

quilt.

WE ZOOM IN on CLAY. WILD, HAZEL EYES on the edge of panic,

refusing to blink. Another FLASH-echoing instant light on

his manic face.

Then another FLASH into the BEDROOM-a NIGHT STAND and a

LITTLE LAMP.

The ever INCREASING DEEP BASE HUMMING NOISE turns into GREAT

OAK TWISTING and MOUNTAINS CRUSHING.

Another FLASH-an open CLOSET with hung shirts and pants,

shoes below.

HOLDING on CLAY... Edge of a TEAR.

-SMASH SOUND CUT- SILENCE!

CLAY waits in eternity, CAMERA shaking...

Something RUSTLES the walls! Coming from the hallway, unseen

from our view.

CLAY turns his head to the right towards the LITTLE BATHROOM

DOOR at the end. It's almost hidden from our view as this

thin hallway is barely visible in darkness.

CLAY! Melting heart of wax!

The unmistakable SOUND of a FAUCET, VERY SLOWLY, TURNING and

then WATER FALLING and SLUSHING down a long copper pipe.

Then an inside LIGHT suddenly FLICKERS like the outside neon

sign, giving the DOOR FRAME a standing rectangle shape in

this DARKENED HALL.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 4.

CLAY'S shallow TEAR finally falls as he slowly turns his

body towards the flashing door with melting courage, raises

the camera up then quietly walks down the hallway like a

hunter stalking an animal. A beast...

PICTURE FRAMES dangle crookedly on their nails. Clay ignores

them without hesitation as though he's done this before.

From the ENTRANCE WAY we see the HALLWAY is very dark at the

end and we almost lose Clay as he finally reaches the door

and stops, surrounded in THICK PITCH.

The same NERVOUS HAND comes into frame as it reaches for the

PAINTED KNOB and holds it, ready to turn.

His BREATHING has heavied and the RUNNING WATER SOUND is

unmistakable.

Beneath the DOOR we see the FLICKERING LIGHT but FASTER now,

more impulsive like a racing heartbeat.

The HAND turns the knob and the DOOR RELEASES some,

outwardly, an inch... CREAKING OLD PIPE SOUNDS of DEEP

RUMBLING! WATER RUSHING in our souls!

STEAM ESCAPES all around the frame. HOLD...

Clay SUDDENLY PULLS OPENED the DOOR with full defiance and

strength-

-THICK FOG of STEAM rushes out and surrounds Clay as the

STROBING FLICKERS of WHITE LIGHT exposes the space, lacing

his frail outline with electricity.

As the FOG escapes we start to make out a CRACKED, SILVER

MIRROR hanging gingerly over a stained, porcelain sink. It

drips with MASSIVE CONDENSATION.

With every revelation given by the FLICKERING LIGHT we come

in CLOSER to the SILVER MIRROR waiting for that beast to

appear...

CLAY turns off the water and reacts quickly to the searing

heat then looks back at the WATERY MIRROR with new courage

and rage.

CLAY

(whispers)

What do you want?

Nothing.

CLAY'S anger flashes and SCREAMS with a WALL ECHOING-

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 5.

CLAY

-What do you want! Tell me what-

-The FLICKERING LIGHT goes out! TOTAL BLACKNESS! We HEAR the

DOOR SLAM SHUT!

CLAY

No! Wait! Wait. Oh God I'm sorry!

I'm sorry!

THUMPING and CRASHING as though Clay wrestles a bear.

FLASHES from the CAMERA POP and CRACKLE UNDER the DOOR

FRAME.

CLAY SCREAMS!

The DOOR FLIES OPEN and CLAY, dropping the camera, scrambles

out, SHIRT TORN to ribbons and BLOODIED.

He flies out the front door...

All is QUIET again and all we can hear is the EVER GENTLE

PELTING RAIN on the OUTSIDE WINDOW.

We STARE at the open DOOR of the bathroom and ZOOM closer to

it through the DARK hallway.

The LIGHT FLICKERS again revealing the scene in chaos and

destruction. But as we are about two feet from the door the

DOOR SLAMS SHUT!

FADE TO BLACK:

SUPERIMPOSE: THREE WEEKS EARLIER

FADE IN:

EXT. FERRY - DAY

CLAY is leaning over the side, neatly dressed in a light

coat. A camera hangs around his neck.

He searches for something far into the distance with

familiar loneliness and fear. Searching for something

hopeful and calm.

The horizon is bleak and still and the day is brisk and cool

as the rude autumn air harasses his white, pale face and

messes his dark, wavy hair.

HE closes his eyes and welcomes this old friend deep into

his lungs.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: 6.

The white tipped waves are choppy and grey. And the sunshine

has found its hiding place behind this sleepy season.

CLAY reopens his eyes with frigid determination and pulls

the camera up and focuses for a shot.

THROUGH THE CAMERA'S POV: WHITE AND RED AND YELLOW SAIL

BOATS clumsily toss near the harbor, foolishly fighting to

save the last moments of summer against a STRONG WIND. SNAP

goes the shutter. SUDDEN DISTRESS from a red boat.

CLAY looks around the camera and quickly back to focus not

to miss this moment.

BACK THROUGH THE CAMERA'S POV: Two men frantically adjust

ropes-SNAP-then the oar heaves over and breaks in two-SNAP.

EXT. FERRY - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

The ferry lands on the harbor in front of the "WELCOME TO

MARTHA'S VINEYARD ISLAND" sign and the CAPTAINS voice is

heard over the speaker giving instructions for safety and

wishing a fun day.

The hurried and excited PEDESTRIANS scamper off with beach

towels and basket, brisking past an alienated CLAY as

exiting cars attempt to dodge them with a dotted quick honk

of their horns.

IRRITATION finds CLAY.


End file.
